I did it Guys, Hope In The Heart Of The Evil Queen has been updated.
I send a million and one thanks to @daneeelleee for reading this thing I call fanfic. It been a long wait, and I truely do apologize, but none the less, I wont give up on it. So I hope you all enjoy it!
If convincing Snow that she was fine to journey had been a hassle, the morning of their departure turned into a mountainous task. From the moment she had stepped outside of Roland’s room with the boy at her side, they were met with the Princess fast approaching them. But thankfully, magic always came in handy.
“Regi-” The younger brunette started to speak, but before she got any further Regina lifted her hands, transporting her and Roland into Granny’s corridor.
“Woah” giggled Roland as he started to fall had her hands not tightened around his to prevent the fall. “Regina! Let's do it again!!!”
Laughing she answered him, “We can’t sweetheart, but when I come back, we can anywhere around the castle, ok? We have to go see Granny now, remember?”
He had been a mess the night before, clinging onto her even in his sleep. When morning had rolled around, he promised to let her go if only he could speak to her every day, no matter what. It was that promise that had her enchanting a pocket mirror and breaking it in half. She had hers’ ready underneath her bodice, as he had his under his tunic. Looking down at him now she could see he wasn't still all that pleased, so she crouched down to see him and tilted his face to see her. “Roland, honey, listen to me. I know you're not happy about me going, and neither is Snow, but I’ll be able to talk to you; and when I come back, hopefully I’ll have your Papa with me. But until then, you promised me you would behave and be my guarding little Knight here in the castle. Okay?”
“Okay…” he whispered. With that she took his face in her hands and kissed him, hoping to soothe his worries away. Guilt gnawed in her stomach, feeling so much for this child who has had to endure so much. The child within her has yet to be born, and yet she’s somehow failed them too. She needed Robin, not just for herself but for the child in her arms, and the one growing in her.
For @queen-of-the-merry-men who wanted Robin to see Regina’s natural curls for the first time. Happy belated birthday! ❤️
In the Missing Year, Regina shows Roland her curly hair | 2.3K unbeta-ed words
The Queen was brooding.
Not that this surprised Robin, he had rarely seen her with anything but a scowl plastered to her face from the moment he met her. But it was the way the Queen brooded, silent and alone, hunched in on herself as she sat in front of the roaring fire, which took Robin by surprise.
He had heard many a story about the great and terrible Evil Queen, about rage that levelled villages and a burning magic that could turn a man to dust. He had expected fire and venom from this great sorceress, this supposed monster of a woman. But she surprised him.
She was often cold, and detached, and was made of far less fire than Robin would have expected. She rarely spoke, especially on outings such as this one, camping with Snow White and the Prince along with Robin’s band of Merry Men, in the middle of the woods on a mission to gather intel on the Wicked Witch. Usually, the only time she opened her mouth was to throw a snarky comment laced with venom at anyone lucky enough to ruffle the royal feathers.
The rare exception to this rule was Robin’s son, who had a rapidly growing soft spot for her Majesty. She would offer him half smiles when he ran up to speak to her, listened intently whenever he regaled her with one of his never ending stories, nodding and, on good days, laughing quietly for only Roland to hear, and she had even started letting him sit on her lap during meals. It warmed a part of Robin’s heart, a part deep inside and long gone cold, seeing the Queen melt in the presence of his boy.
Robin had found that he was becoming increasingly better at reading the Queen, at knowing when her mood was rather colder than usual, when it was best to keep his distance as to not make matters worse, and he prided himself on knowing her so well – though he’d never admit it.
It was Roland that held the Queen’s attention now as she sat across from Robin perched on a damp log, arms wrapped around herself loosely. Something was bothering her, enough that even Roland’s dance around the camp’s fire couldn’t seem to smooth the crease between her brows or the narrowing of her eyes. If Robin could guess, he’d say that she wasn’t really watching Roland, and instead she let her eyes fall on him while her mind wandered. But to where, Robin wondered?
He hadn’t realized he was staring at the Queen until Little John cleared his throat from beside him loudly, snapping Robin out of his trace and handing him a steaming hot bowl of broth. The scent hit his nose then, rich with meat and a hint of spices that Robin couldn’t quite name, and his stomach rumbled.
“Roland,” Robin called, drawing the boy’s attention before waving a hand in his direction, “It’s time for supper.”
Roland bounced in his excitement and hurried over to his father’s side, where he plopped down on the log and took the small bowl of broth that John handed him. He took a quick sip, but his eyes lifted over the fire, over where Robin’s had just been glued moment’s ago.
“Why isn’t My Majesty having supper?” Roland asked, turning to look at his father with his adorably pinched brow that mirrored the Queen’s.
Robin shook his head, eyes bouncing over to Regina for only a moment before looking down at his son. “I’m sure the Queen will eat when she’s hungry,” He assured him, though it did little to quell the concern in his son.
“She’s never hungry,” Roland said, and well, he’s got him there. Regina never admitted to being hungry, often refused meals when she was in one of her moods – which was more often than not – and more than once over the last few weeks Robin had found himself concerned with the sharpness of her jaw and collar bone, and the way her corsets seemed a little looser than when she had first returned to this land.
“I’m going to bring My Majesty supper,” Roland announced them, before turning to John and asking for a bowl to bring to the Queen.
Regina must have heard him, as her eyes bounced to the boy then, snapping out of whatever had her so focused elsewhere. She seemed to soften, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips when she watched Roland walk at a snails pace around the fire, careful not to spill a drop of her supper before he could hand it to her with a beaming smile. She returned the smile in earnest, and patted her lap to offer Roland a seat while she accepted his offer.
“If it weren’t for Roland, I fear Regina might have never eaten again,” David’s voice came from behind Robin, quiet enough for just Robin to hear, and he turned just in time to see the Prince lower himself to the log beside him, with Snow next to him.
“She seems happier lately, that’s for sure,” Snow added as John handed her a bowl, which she accepted with a grateful smile and nod.
Robin stole a glance back at the Queen and his son, and couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across his face when he saw Roland was whispering in the Queen’s ear, telling her something important enough to have her mocking seriousness while she listened to him.
“Roland, maybe you should come back over here so we can let the Queen eat,” Robin said loud enough to grab both of their attention, and Regina scowled at him over Roland’s head, clearly unimpressed that he was trying to leave her to eat alone. She wrapped her arm around the boy and hugged him closer to her chest, and Roland simply stuck his tongue out at his father. “Or… you can stay there,” Robin continued, shaking his head.
Regina grinned at him, a hint of gloating in her easy victory, and Robin rolled his eyes. Heaven help him, this woman.
Suddenly Regina’s face fell, the mocking smile slipping into startled surprise, and she let out a quick “Oh damn” before she turned to her side to place her bowl of broth on the log next to her. She then raised her free hand, circling herself and Roland with a shimmering white shield, encasing them in magic. Before Robin could even ask, a crash of thunder sounded overhead, and in an instant, rain poured down on the camp, heavy raindrops soaking through Robin’s clothes in seconds.
Regina waved her hand again, quickly encircling the fire with a magic shield that matched her own, protecting the source of their warmth from the rain, and Snow made an undignified sound.
“If you knew it was going to rain, you could have put one of those around the whole camp,” the princess said in an accusatory tone while she pushed the now flattened strands of soaked hair out of her face.
“It took me by surprise, I was looking for flying monkeys and I caught a hint of thunder,” Regina said with a shrug before adding, “Plus, a few of you could use a good wash.”
A few of the Merry Men groaned in response, though the Queen ignored them, pulling Roland into her chest further to keep his swinging feet inside their little barrier from the rain.
“Look at Uncle John’s hair!” Roland suddenly yelled, throwing a tiny hand out to point at the man at Robin’s left, who was shaking out his mane of curls. The man was rather hairy, and the buckets of water falling from the sky seemed to make his unruly curls grow in size, if that were at all possible. John laughed softly, running a hand through his hair, and called the boy over to him, insisting that if Roland got his hair wet, it would probably grow too.
Roland wiggled off of Regina’s lap, stepping through the shimmering white magic that surrounded him into the downpour, where his tiny frame was instantly soaked. Roland had his mother’s hair – he had almost his mother’s everything – which would always curl when even slightly damp. Marian had never been able to tame her curls, had often left them to their natural state, but Roland had an easier time, since he kept his hair fairly short. Still, the boy shook his head much like John had, and ran his fingers through his hair until the curls became more pronounced.
“Well Roland, I dare say you have the curliest hair I have ever seen!” Snow said enthusiastically, making the boy puff up a little with pride. He ran over to John for a moment, to compare the size of their curls, before stopping and looking over at Snow.
“Why doesn’t the Princess have curly hair?” Roland asked as he turned to Robin, who lifted a shoulder, saying that not everyone has curls the way he and John had.
“My Majesty has curly hair,” Roland said, turning to point at Regina, or rather, the long draping ringlets that were falling from the top of her head over one shoulder.
“Well, the Queen styles her hair like that,” Snow explained to him, “Just like I do. But my hair isn’t naturally curly like yours.” She reached forward to ruffle his dripping curls, spraying a bit of water as she did so, and leaned back.
Robin looked over to Regina, and found her scowling again, but this time, it was directed at the Princess. He wouldn’t call the look on her face angry exactly, though she certainly wasn’t impressed. She was thinking, or rather deciding, that much he could tell, as she chewed on her lower lip before looking up to the sky through her magical shield. Eventually she rolled her eyes, reached up to the pins that held her hair on top of her head, and one by one, pulled them out, placing them on her lap. Eventually, her perfect curls fell around her shoulders, long enough to hang past her waist. She then lifted her hand and flicked her wrist, dissolving the shimmering white magic to let the rain fall on top of her.
She was instantly drenched, her dress turning several shades darker in the rainwater, and she shook her head while combing her fingers through her hair. The Queen’s hair was obviously thick, and looked rather heavy, but slowly the wet locks started to curl wildly, expanding with each passing second.
And then she looked up, and her eyes locked with Robin. It could have been a minute, it could have been an hour, Robin wouldn’t be able to tell, but when he looked at her, he found everything freeze around him.
She was gorgeous.
Everyone knew of the Queen’s beauty, and who could deny that those painted lips and those dark eyes weren’t beautiful? But this, this was far less fabricated. Regina had a wild mane of curls, even dripping wet as they were now, and there was something so natural about how she looked as the rain washed away some of the Evil Queen to reveal the real Regina, something that took Robin’s breath away.
Roland’s eyes lit up, and he ran over to the Queen and jumped on her lap. Regina barely had a second to react, grabbing Roland before he could fall to the ground and laughed quietly when he grabbed the long, tangled curls that now framed her face.
“You have hair just like me!” Roland exclaimed, running his fingers through the Queen’s hair. For a moment, Robin’s fingers itched to copy his son, wondered what those long curls would feel like slipping through his grasp.
“I…” Snow started, her voice soft and distant. “I had no idea you had hair like that.” The Princess looked dumbfounded, as if she was seeing a part of the Queen for the first time, and, well, she probably was, wasn’t she?
Regina simply shrugged before running a hand through her hair absently, pushing the messy curls out of her face. Roland was still looking at her, perched on her lap while he played with her hair, and Regina smiled softly down at him, her cheeks growing rosy, whether from the chill of the rain or the rather open moment, Robin couldn’t be sure.
“Look, as fun as this is, the rain is probably ruining dinner,” David said. “Can you maybe…” He gestured to the sky, a vague enough explanation for what he was requesting, and Regina rolled her eyes before flicking her wrist, covering the camp with a much bigger version of her protective shield.
Roland squealed his delight as he slid off of Regina’s lap to jump in the nearest puddle, and Robin watched as Regina smiled at the boy, grinning while he played in the water.
The rest of the meal fell into a more normal routine, idle chitchat while broth was finished, though Robin found his gaze wandered over to the Queen far more than usual. Eventually, he stopped pretending he was listening to anything his men or the Prince said to him all together, and focused entirely on Roland and Regina, who whispered quietly and played together.
As she slowly dried, Regina’s curls seemed to only grow wilder, with more frizz and more volume than Robin had expected, though the Queen seemed entirely unbothered by her unruly hair. She was enamoured with Roland while he talked of his mother, how he had the same hair as her, and that he had never met anyone with hair bigger than his mama’s. Regina grinned through it all, and Robin found that part of him was growing warm again while he watched them together, while he watched her.
Though he was sure he would never again see the Queen with her natural curls, with a piece of her true self so openly on display, Robin found that, though he may not have known the Queen as well as he thought, he found he rather liked this surprise.
Summary: Roland is trying to get used to living in Sherwood Forest again, this time without his papa. Twenty-six drabbles, one for each letter of the alphabet. Plus, a beautiful and meaningful word with Greek roots for every letter.
A/N: Thank you for the follows and likes! :) And a big thank you to Film (@maythavee) who checked this chapter for me! Also, I want to mention Jen (@stick-to-the-lasagna-lady) who I forgot to mention last time (sorry!) and who gave me a beautiful compliment about my writing that I appreciate and won't forget!
Melancholy
From Ancient Greek μελαγχολία (sadness; condition characterized by sullenness, gloom, irritability; ill disposition, anger, annoyance; literally: black bile)
People were coming and going hurriedly, starting their day as usual. Roland watched them from his place at the bottom of the stairs that led to the dining room. He was hidden behind the shadows created by the warm sunrays. He watched the shadow of the banister changing position on the stairs, becoming smaller and smaller, and he was certain it wouldn’t keep hiding him for long.
It was almost lunchtime. People didn’t look like they were preparing for lunch though. Lang had gone outside with Delwyn, the “fairest in all the lands” as he called her. Roland thought that they would be away for hours like they did every day, but he was wrong. Lang entered the castle, Delwyn following close behind, matching mischievous grins on their faces as they carried something big and funny-shaped into the unused ballroom. Some time later Tuck appeared from a corridor close to another staircase. He was holding something wrapped in newspaper and headed to the ballroom as well.
Suddenly the dining room door opened and Roland jumped. Tripp's mom along with another woman appeared and stood in front of the staircase.
“Is this the right kind?” Tripp’s mom asked.
“I don’t know. I’m not used to having chocolate, especially that much chocolate,” the other woman replied and looked around nervously.
Roland curled farther into the stairs to avoid being noticed.
“Mina…” Tripp’s mom started.
“All I’m saying is that our boys aren’t treated like that.”
Roland thought he heard bitterness in her voice and she looked angry, but in the next moment Tuck was out of the ballroom and the woman's expression changed.
“Good, you have it!” Tuck said as he approached the women. He gestured at them and they followed him inside, the woman named Mina rolling her eyes behind Tuck's back.
“Hi!” a cheerful voice said from behind Roland and he was happy it was Lizzie who found him. She was the person he wanted to see the most.
“Shhh,” Roland said, putting his index finger on his lips. He was happy to see her, but she shouldn’t make his hiding place known. “Where were you?” he asked.
“Look!” Lizzie whispered, barely containing her excitement. She turned around and pointed to her hair. Her previously untamed black curls were shorter and looked as neat as Roland had ever seen them.
“Cool,” Roland said, smiling at his friend.
“Vera's mama did it,” Lizzie said as she sat at the step behind Roland to be under the shadow.
Roland turned his head around as best as he could to look at Lizzie for a little while longer. He didn’t understand why the other kids averted their eyes when she passed in front of them and sometimes Roland felt that they liked him more than they liked Lizzie. One morning he heard them saying that she didn’t belong there with them. But Roland couldn’t see that. For all he knew she was his friend and he wanted to protect her from anyone who attempted to harm her or tell her to leave.
“Why are you hiding?” Lizzie asked, taking Roland out of his reverie.
Roland's lips curved into a smile again, one that showed his dimples.
“Tonight we have a mission,” he said.
::::::
The night came quickly, with everyone still running about the castle when Little John took Roland and Lizzie to their room and tucked them in their beds. Little John looked worried and glanced at every direction of the room when he thought Roland had fallen asleep. He sighed heavily and left the room a few minutes later.
“What’s wrong with Little John?” Lizzie whispered.
“I don’t know,” Roland answered. “We shouldn’t sleep until everyone else goes to sleep.”
It turned out that Lizzie fell asleep and Roland had to wake her up when he decided it was safe for them to go, after hearing the familiar sound of midnight from the clock in the corridor. Lizzie complained, tired eyes looking up at the wide awake boy.
“It’s my birthday,” Roland whispered.
It was all it took to make Lizzie leave her warm cocoon of blankets and follow Roland downstairs. The task would be twice as hard if Roland hadn’t known some of the castle’s secret passages. He remembered Regina taking him through one to hide him quickly when flying monkeys appeared out of nowhere. Another time his papa had ordered some of his Merry Men to hide all the children in a dark passageway that smelt of moist and dirt.
Roland took Lizzie’s hand and didn’t let go. He felt her shake – From the cold? From fear? – but didn’t stop moving, and she seemed to trust him. Roland was glad, because he knew where he was going; he had never been so sure about something in his life. He walked close to the wall, his fingers trailing its hard surface until he found a corner, and then carefully he turned, tugging Lizzie’s hand along. Slowly but surely the two children made it to the central staircase and found themselves in the same hiding place, in the shadow the light created on the first steps – this time the light of a torch hanging on the wall.
A guard passed by the dining room doors once, twice. Roland recognized him as one of the men that joined them a few weeks ago when they arrived at the castle. After the third time the man approached the door, he stopped. He looked around for a moment and then entered the dining room.
Roland shot up from the stairs, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He ran down as quietly as he could, glancing behind him to see if Lizzie was there. She was, and together they pushed one part of the heavy double door of the ballroom and went inside. Roland held the handle and Lizzie held Roland’s shoulders, trying to combine their strength and close the door silently. They released similar breaths of relief accompanied by fatigue and turned around.
Roland froze at the site.
“It’s beautiful,” Lizzie said.
Roland nodded from beside her.
“I thought we would have to destroy it,” he said, his voice trembling, suddenly reluctant at the thought.
“What? Why?”
Roland looked around the room. Several sweets were placed on a big table; sweets that Roland knew weren’t easy to find in the Enchanted Forest. And among them, tall and seemingly delicious, stood the cake. It was only half a cake – two sponge cakes – and Roland thought that they would probably make cream and frosting the next day. Several items were scattered around and made the place look entirely different from the last time he was there during a celebration for the adults. Aircrafts of many kinds – planes and helicopters from the land without magic, air balloons, even parachutes – had been placed neatly on the floor in every corner of the room. They were made from natural products like wood and leaves, and Roland found them fascinating.
“Last year Regina helped papa and the Merry Men throw me a celebration. It was a birthday party like the ones they have in the Land Without Magic. There were clowns and lots of colorful balloons. I saw the clowns’ uniforms in the washroom a few days ago and I thought the party would be the same as last year. I didn’t want that, because papa is not here, so it will never be the same again. I wanted to make it different, but it’s already different,” Roland said. “What’s wrong?” he asked when he saw Lizzie’s panicked expression.
“Please, let them give you a proper celebration,” Lizzie said pleadingly. She lowered her head before adding “I don’t even have a birthday.”
Roland gasped and his eyes widened in surprise.
“You can’t not have a birthday!” he said. “How about celebrating with me tomorrow?”
“But it’s your special day!” Lizzie exclaimed.
“Then we can find another day that can be your special day,” Roland said with a smile. “And don’t worry, I don’t want to destroy this,” he added.
Roland and Lizzie walked around the room to examine the aircrafts. They didn’t touch them; they would be able to do that the next day. When they felt like they couldn’t keep their eyes open anymore, they headed to their room as silently as they had sneaked out.
::::::
The sun woke them up the next morning, rising earlier and earlier with each passing day. Roland and Lizzie went down the stairs with heavy limbs and puffy eyes. Lang saw them before they reached the ground floor and with a quick happy birthday he ran past them.
Little John was waiting at the bottom the final stairs, a big smile adorning his face and making his eyes look less tired. He was always tired lately, that’s what Roland thought. When he saw him though, his first instinct was to run into his arms. Little John caught him with an Oomph, you’re so big now! which made Roland giggle.
Most of the Merry Men were there and wished Roland a happy birthday, a chorus of voices that echoed in Roland’s ears during breakfast and kept his wide smile plastered on his face. Roland’s favorite thing of that morning wasn’t the attention he got from everyone though. It was Little John’s presence beside him. He had been constantly busy lately and Roland found himself missing him a lot. Having him there was a blessing and sadness clouded his mind when he thought that the pleasant change was probably only for his birthday.
The rest of the day passed faster than Roland had expected. Anticipation filled the air before dinner. Everyone knew what it was about and Lizzie could hardly stop laughing while they walked towards the dining room – Lang and Delwyn ahead of them – because she had seen the ballroom prepared for the celebration and only Roland knew. Roland pinched her arm to make her stop laughing, but she laughed even harder, causing Roland’s dimples to show as he joined his friend in a heartfelt laugh.
At the bottom of the stairs, Lang stopped and turned around.
“This way, my lord,” he said with a deep bow that Roland found ridiculous. “After you, milady,” he added turning towards Lizzie, his bow deepening even more, and Roland almost tripped as he was trying to watch Lang’s funny gestures instead of walking.
Although Roland knew what was in the ballroom, what he saw when he got inside was breathtaking. The aircraft toys were still there and now chocolate frosting had been added to the cake, making it more tempting. But the people were the addition that made the room absolutely beautiful. It looked like every resident of the castle was there to celebrate Roland’s birthday and the boy was thrilled.
Roland and Lizzie decided to touch and play with the aircrafts this time. They had just managed to make a parachute of wood and leaf fly for a few seconds when Roland realized that Little John wasn’t there. He asked Lang, but it was Much who told them Little John was in his bedchambers, busy with something important. Roland frowned, but continued playing with the parachute, not wanting his change of mood to attract any attention.
“I’m going to Little John’s bedchambers,” he whispered to Lizzie after a while.
“But people will be wondering where you are,” Lizzie whispered back.
Roland sighed. “I don’t want to spend my celebration without Little John,” he said before carefully sneaking out of the crowded ballroom.
He made his way to Little John’s bedchambers without many distractions. He only met one of the men who temporarily stayed with them guarding one of the corridors. Little John’s door was half opened and Roland slid inside with a smile, ready to surprise him. Halfway into the room, before turning the corner to see Little John, he heard his voice. He was talking to someone – wasn’t he alone?
“I still think it’s too soon,” he said.
“Little John, it’s his birthday! Let me talk to him just for a few minutes,” another voice said and Roland froze in his place.
The voice was Regina’s. It sounded clear like she was right there. With his heartbeat so loud in his ears that he could barely make out Little John’s next words, Roland dared to take a step to the left. He could now see Little John’s legs, but he didn’t want to move farther in case he got noticed. No one else seemed to be in the room, at least not in the direction Little John was supposed to be looking. Roland tried to recall what was in the room the last time he was there. The bed on which Little John was sitting, a nightstand, a wardrobe, a mirror…
That was it. Regina wasn’t there; she was talking to Little John through the mirror like she had done in the past when she and his papa were in a mission together and Aunt Snow was worried about them. Roland shook the memory out of his mind to concentrate on what was going on.
“You know I don’t like this either, but it’s for Roland’s good,” Little John said.
Regina let out a dry laugh.
“We’ve been over this and you agreed with me about what’s good for Roland,” she said through the mirror. Roland thought he heard her voice breaking in the end.
“We’ve also been over this and we’ve agreed that it’s not the right time. Not when the Evil Queen is still there and –”
“That’s one of the reasons I want to talk to him now!” Regina said louder than before, making Roland jump. “We didn’t get to say goodbye to each other, not really. What if…” Regina said, her voice becoming soft, almost whispering the last two words in a sentence that remained unfinished.
Roland didn’t realize what happened in the next few seconds – everything was fast. Regina was talking like she would never be able to see him again and in the next moment memories invaded Roland’s mind and made his head hurt. Thinking that he had heard Regina’s voice (now he knew that it was actually her), but convincing himself that he had been wrong, the other children mocking him about his lack of parents while one of his mamas was actually right there, and now Little John was talking to Regina and not letting her talk to him…
“Regina!”
Roland leapt forward with such force that he stumbled on the carpet before the bed. He fell down hard, but got up immediately, not caring about his scraped knee. He thought he heard Little John gasp, but Roland didn’t pay any attention to him. He focused on the mirror instead. It was a round mirror hanging on the wall next to the wardrobe. Regina’s eyes scanned the room, apparently searching for him. When she finally spotted him, she released a watery sigh.
“My little knight,” she said, tears shining in her eyes.
Roland went closer to the mirror, straining his neck to look up. That wouldn’t work. He looked around and as he was about to reach for the nearest chair, Little John was on his feet and brought it to him. Roland gave him a grateful glance before he climbed on the chair. The next time he looked at Regina, tear trails were on her cheeks, but she had a faint smile on her face.
“Hi,” Roland said.
“Hi,” Regina said back.
They stayed like that for a few moments, not talking, just looking at each other. Regina looked as tired as Little John, maybe even more so. Her hair was short, shorter than Roland ever remembered it to be. But she was still beautiful. She is the fairest in all the lands, Roland thought, not Delwyn.
“Happy birthday, Roland,” Regina said.
“Thank you,” Roland said and grinned at her.
That took a laugh out of her – Roland didn’t understand why – and another tear rolled on her cheek.
“Regina, don’t cry,” Roland said.
“I’m just happy to see you, sweetheart.”
“I’m happy, too,” Roland said, grinning once again. “Why didn’t we talk before?”
Regina’s smile disappeared and it took her a while to answer. “Because some bad things have been happening here. I need to take care of everything before we can see each other again.”
“Is it the Evil Queen?” Roland asked.
For the first time Regina’s eyes left his briefly to exchange a glance with Little John.
“Yes, the Evil Queen. After she can no longer harm people, you and I can talk again,” Regina said. She took a deep breath and added, “Alright?”
Roland nodded. Regina was a hero and she needed to protect everyone. He understood that.
“But why were you talking to Little John and not me?” Roland said, a pout appearing on his face.
This time Regina’s answer was immediate. “Because I wanted to make sure that you were alright, but Little John and I didn’t want to upset you before we knew what would happen with the Evil Queen.”
Roland nodded again.
“But you wanted to talk to me today,” Roland said.
“Today is your birthday.”
“It is!”
With that Regina chuckled and said “Then you’d better go back to your party.”
“Can you come, too?” Roland asked.
“I’m afraid not, my little knight,” Regina answered and Roland saw sadness covering her eyes, no trace of her earlier chuckle on her face.
“But you’ll come another time?” Roland asked, a wish hidden in his question.
“Yes, I will,” Regina said, throwing a glance at Little John again. The man let out a sigh, but remained in his seat on the bed and didn’t say anything.
“Now, promise me that you’ll enjoy your party?” Regina asked with a look that didn’t leave any doubt that she was to be obeyed – a piece of advice from mama Regina.
“I’ll try,” Roland said, his voice low. Regina widened her eyes and gave him a pointed look. “Okay, I will!”
“That’s my little knight! Don’t tell me there isn’t anything cool in your party!”
“Of course there is!” Roland exclaimed. “There’s a chocolate cake and lots of aircrafts made of wood, leaves and rocks!”
“See? It’s going to be fun,” Regina said, her smile faltering while she wiped another stray tear. “Before I let you return to your party, I wanted to tell you that your little sister and Henry say hi.”
“But my little sister can’t talk,” Roland said, giggling. “Can she?” he asked a moment later, wondering if after all those months, his sister got old enough to speak.
Regina giggled as well and Roland felt satisfied that he was able to elicit that sound out of her. He liked that happy look on her face, even if it usually didn’t last for long.
“No, she can’t talk yet. But if she did, she would want to say hi to you,” she said.
“I say hi back,” Roland said with a nod.
He leaned his head closer to the mirror. His warm breath made the glass blurry and Roland didn’t like that because he couldn’t see Regina’s face clearly. He pulled back again.
“I love you, Roland,” Regina said.
“I love you, too, Regina.”
And with that, the only thing Roland could see in the mirror was his own reflection. He remained standing on the chair, the only sounds in the room coming from his and Little John’s breaths, until Little John stood up and approached him with heavy footsteps. Roland turned around to face him. He felt like crying, but for some reason the tears wouldn’t come. He noticed a sad expression on Little John's face and he momentarily thought that it was good, because Roland wasn’t happy, so why should everyone else be happy? He regretted it immediately, his papa's words to be righteous (a word Roland didn’t fully understand) and good echoing in his head. He jumped off the chair and hissed, only then realizing that his knee hurt.
“Let me take care of that and then we can go back to your party,” Little John said, his voice incredibly soft for a man of his size.
“No,” Roland said.
“Roland…”
“I don’t want to go back to the party.”
Roland's words made Little John sigh. He grabbed a clean cloth from inside the wardrobe and dipped it in the water basin. His touch to Roland's knee was gentle and the boy let the man clean the wound that also had a bruise around the almost dried blood.
“Does it hurt?” Little John asked.
“No. I’m a big boy now,” Roland answered.
“Of course you are,” Little John said, the chuckle that followed the only joyful sound Roland had heard from him since that morning. “Let’s go to the party now,” Little John tried again, looking at Roland hopefully.
Roland contemplated his options. He could go to the party and be miserable because his earlier bright mood had dissipated and the only thing he wanted to do was talk with Regina again. Or he could stay up there and be miserable alone.
He remembered Regina's words and how much she wanted him to enjoy his party. So, he would try, just for her.
The way to the ballroom was silent and slow. Roland and Little John were greeted with cheerful voices and not long later six candles were lit on the cake, one for each year Roland had lived on the Earth, a tradition of another world that reminded Roland of Regina again. A silly tradition, Roland thought, because he knew he had lived for longer than six years; Henry had once helped him calculate how many. Nevertheless, he blew out the candles and made a secret wish (“Let the world be fair”).
Roland sat beside Lizzie on the floor near a miniature hot air balloon made of roots and colorful rose petals. Tuck brought plates with chocolate cake to the children and Lizzie immediately took a bite. She said that the cake's cream tasted heavenly and such a cake was something she had never eaten before.
Roland looked at his own piece and wondered why he didn’t feel like eating it. Chocolate was one of the things he really missed since he left Storybrooke and now its dark brown color reminded him of a black monster ready to eat him instead of him eating it.
He looked around at all the happy people and felt like his birthday wish would never come true. He placed the plate beside him on the floor and didn’t smile for the rest of the night.
I’ve got a shit ton more written for my little OQ fic since the ‘sneak peak’ I posted what seems like bloody years ago. Manon (@onhowtobecrazy) is an actual angel sent from the heavens with all the help she’s providing and being my cheerleader. I’m going to attempt to get part one finished for tomorrow night, spend Monday editing on the train, and post it sometime Monday evening GMT. But here is another little look-see focusing on the Dimples Queen element of the story...
Roland does manage to get three bedtime stories before she convinces him to go to sleep. Has to swear up and down that yes, he can come and wake her the next morning for breakfast, and that no, she won’t mind before he even considers lying down under his blankets.
“‘M not sleepy,” Roland says mid yawn as she coaxes him further into his pillows.
Regina bites back a smile, and continues to tuck him now that she’s not sat against the headboard with him cuddled into her side. She didn’t realise how much she’d missed this, missed the adamant declarations of not need to go to sleep while tired eyes slip closed until she’s murmuring “I know you’re not,” and stroking her fingers through his curls.
Bedtimes with Henry started to get cut short after he turned seven and declared it ‘uncool’ to need his mom to read him a story. They became a bit tense when he found out just before he turned nine that he was adopted and for the first time her little prince was going through something she couldn’t fix, something she didn’t know how to make better. The all but disappeared when he got the book and all of the sudden she wasn’t ‘mom’ anymore but evil, someone - hell, something to be hated, to escape from.
She blinks away the memories of one of the worst sections of her long life in favour of focusing on the little boy in front of her; she can break down behind closed doors, but she can’t let Roland see her like that. He’s still fighting sleep, pushes back at the tempting comfort of his bed so she utilises a trick she’d picked up during Henry’s bout of colic, one that worked without fail at any age. Shifting so she is once again sat against the headboard, this time curved slightly to lean over him, she alternates between scratching her nails softly against his scalp and running her index finger, feather light above his brows, smoothing down the small frown Roland has from fighting drifting off.
Summary: Roland is trying to get used to living in Sherwood Forest again, this time without his papa. Twenty-six drabbles, one for each letter of the alphabet. Plus, a beautiful and meaningful word with Greek roots for every letter.
For Film (@maythavee), Franzi (@soligblomma), Laura (@whizz-bee) and Julie (@deuxieme-etoile-a-droite) who always want to read more of this story, and to everyone who is still eager to read the continuation!
Lithi
(Greek) From Ancient Greek λήθη (forgetfulness, being forgotten, oblivion)
Roland climbed the steps two at a time. His legs hurt, but he didn’t want to stop.
“Roland, slow down! Wait for me!” Lizzie told him from the bottom of the staircase.
Roland planted his feet on the carpet once he reached the next floor and turned around to look at his friend.
“But I want to go now!” he said with a pout.
“But your legs are taller than mine and you’re faster. I can’t keep up with you,” Lizzie said.
Roland grinned, showing his dimples. “You’re here now,” he said.
Lizzie reached the top of the staircase and both kids stood there for a few moments to catch their breath.
Roland was the first one to start walking again, with measured steps this time.
“Where are we going?” Lizzie asked.
“You’ll see.”
Lizzie followed Roland in a part of the castle she didn’t recognize. The corridor they walked in was a few floors under the royal chambers where she was staying along with Roland, but at a different side of the castle, one that was directed to the south.
The carpet was elegant and fluffy; they could feel their shoes sinking in its softness. The walls were covered by dark red wallpaper that had gone green in some spots. Roland could smell the fungus and remembered Regina saying that despite the window at the far end, the corridor was never kissed by the sun and the humidity could make it suffocating if no one took proper care of it. Large paintings covered the walls, symmetrically placed along the corridor, their gloomy colors fitting in the darkness.
The ticking of a clock could be heard from the middle of the corridor and Lizzie frowned when she noticed it.
“It’s almost lunchtime. They’ll be looking for us,” she said
“We’re almost here,” Roland told her with a confident nod.
Roland looked right and left until he spotted a specific painting. He stopped and turned towards it; Lizzie stopped right beside him. The painting illustrated a meadow with several wild horses scattered around, some browsing happily, some standing proudly with their forelocks and tails flowing in the wind. Roland stared at the painting in awe. It had been a long time since he’d seen it and it would always remind him of Regina, of her fascination for horses and her wide smile every time he saw her ride one.
“Roland?”
Lizzie’s voice took him out of his reverie.
“We have to reach the secret handle now,” Roland said, his eyes focused on the top of the painting. He looked at it with a trouble expression on his face. “I can’t reach it,” he said, his voice coming out breathless and higher than before. “Lizzie, we can’t reach it!”
Roland’s eyes filled with tears and he was finding it hard to breathe.
“Roland? What is it? Can I help?” Lizzie asked.
“Roland?” she repeated when she got no answer, tears forming in her own eyes as well.
“I should have known I wouldn’t be able to go in! I have to go in!” Roland shouted at the painting, making Lizzie gasp and take a step back.
“Roland, let’s go to the dining room,” Lizzie said, tears now falling freely from her eyes.
Roland sniffed and took a step towards the painting. He brought his hand up and caressed one of the horses with his fingertip.
“I should be able to go in,” he said, his sniffs quickly turning into sobs.
“What is in there?” Lizzie asked.
“It’s a room. Regina’s secret library,” Roland said after a few minutes, when the sobs had subsided enough to let him speak.
“Who is Regina?”
“She was… my other mama,” Roland said, rubbing his eyes furiously with his fists.
“Is she with your papa and your mama up there?” Lizzie asked, pointing her finger upwards.
Roland took a sharp intake of breath.
“No! She’s just in another world,” he said.
“Oh.”
“I wanted to go to her library, because I’ve been there before and I know where I can find some useful things. She has magical things and you can use them to make potions. I wanted to make a remembering potion so that I never forget.”
“Forget what?”
“My papa. Regina. My sister. Henry. Home.”
Roland whispered the last word. He wasn’t sure if home was a place or just a thought. He had forgotten how it felt to have a place where he could feel happy and he wasn’t sure whether home actually existed.
Lizzie nodded in understanding and that surprised him.
“You won’t forget,” she said firmly.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
“Because I haven’t forgotten. I still remember my mama’s hug and beautiful voice singing to me every night. Her eyes, her smile and her love.”
The tears were still shining in Lizzie’s eyes, but now her expression was serene.
“I don’t remember my mama at all,” Roland said miserably.
“And I don’t remember my papa. But you remember yours and your other mama. They’ll be with you forever.”
“Regina told me that my papa will always be in my heart.”
“That’s true,” Lizzie said and gave Roland a reassuring smile before offering him her hand.
Roland took it without hesitation and they started walking to the staircase slowly.
Comfortable silence surrounded them on their way to the dining room, but Roland’s thoughts were loud. He thought of Lizzie’s words and his papa talking to him softly every night before sleep took him. He thought of Regina’s hugs and freshly baked apple pie. The memories were painful, but Roland thought hard and wordlessly promised his papa that he would never stop thinking about them.
A/N. This is for the lovely @onceuponahappytime. Everytime someone spews uncomprehensible hate in your inbox, I’m gonna write a fic to fight fucked-up words with creative ones.
A huge, huge thank you to my adorable sister, @thisisamadhouse. You help me keep my chill when I’m insecure about what I write, you yell at me in all the right moments, you inspire me for all the sister feels in my writing. Thank you <3
This is post Robin’s death - but there’s no Jekyll/Hyde storyline, no Split Queen, only Dimples Queen angst and sweetness. Because this is what should have been in the show. You’ll also find Swan Queen Brotp and Mills Sisters feels.
Unedited, all mistakes are mine, I wrote this while listening to I will always return from the Spirit soundtracks, you’re welcome for the pain.
They’re nearing the town line when she gets the phone call.
“Zelena?”
“I don’t know where you are but you’d better get to the clock tower, and quickly. The extras from Camelot and else are freaking out and I’ve been asked to open a portal for them to go back home.”
She frowns and makes an impatient gesture at Emma who’s slowing down, waiting to hear about the new development, to keep driving.
“And why should I care about the medievals’ whereabouts?”
“Because Robin’s boy band is taking Roland home.”
She freezes, her grip bruising on her phone.
“I’m coming.”
She hangs up and barely spares a glance for Emma as she says, her words frantic, “Pull over and wait for me, Miss Swan.”
Then she’s gone in a wisp of purple.
.
She staggers and almost falls on the sidewalk as she materializes near the clock tower, her legs wobbly even as she runs towards the gathering, her heart pounding harshly in her ears, drilling frustration and fear into her skull, hazed words wheeling in her head to the rhythm of her heels I can’t lose him too I can’t lose him too I can’t-
He’s in her arms before she’s even managed to catch a glimpse of her sister’s red hair, before she sees the wooden frame tearing through reality and all set to be the mean of another heartbreak for her.
His head collide with her stomach and knocks the wind out of her, but she doesn’t need her breath to kneel down and cradle him against her chest, her lips finding his warm temple, her nose tickled by the thick, curly locks of Roland’s untamed dark hair.
He’s shaking against her and that’s enough to make her find her voice again.
“Hello, my little thief.”
He pulls back to look at her, and the tears he’s been too shell-shocked and confused to shed at his father’s funeral are pooling in his eyes, but he holds them back again, pale and brave and shivering, and she wants to cry herself when she thinks how he’s outgrown childhood’s easy sorrow in the last few days.
“Don’t send me away, please.”
He’s mumbling but looking straight at her, his eyes begging, and she cups his cheeks, kissing his forehead repeatedly, murmuring against his skin, “You’re not going anywhere without me.” She glares at John sheepishly coming towards them, his large hands fumbling with the hem of his jacket.
“We didn’t mean to leave without saying goodbye, but-”
“You’re not taking him back,” she cuts him, not caring much about an apology nor an explanation at this point.
He sighs, and looks over at his companions, slowly gathering around them, all watching her with a mixture of pity and dread, and she want to snarl, spit and hiss like the mad cat she once was, face them like the monster they’d thought her to be at first, yearning for a moment to be her enough to feel strong again, even if it’s only through the rush of an illusion.
But there’s a little boy in her arms, and the evil in her has always been kept at bay by this precious weight against her chest.
“Regina -- I mean, your majesty, we know it’s hard, but that’s his home over there. This is what Robin would have wanted, for his son to grow up in Sherwood.”
“This is absurd, Robin never mentioned it, he would never have wanted this!”
“All due respect, Ma’am, but we knew him.”
“And I love him!”
She’s always hated the silence that follows her outbursts -- this one more than any other.
“Loved him,” she corrects, her voice thin, on the verge of rupture. “He would have told me.”
John crouches down in front of them -- it doesn’t do much to reduce his giant size, but she finds a strange comfort in the gesture nonetheless, even more so when one of his large, warm hands settles over her tense ones still clutching at Roland’s jacket as her arms surround him securely.
“I don’t think he had much time for that, Regina.”
And no -- no they hadn’t, they had never time for anything, their I love you's weren’t even born on their lips when they died and withered along with him --
“Can you honestly tell me that this would be the best place for Roland? That you will always be there to protect him despite everything that goes on in this town? That he would never be in any danger after what happened with Robin?”
His voice is kind, but breaks her all the same. She hears a soft, whimpering “Regina…” as she slowly disentangles Roland from her embrace, fighting against his strong and desperate grip with the little strength she has left.
“We all have to think about what’s best for the lad. Sometimes, when you truly love someone, you have to let them go. I know you know that,” he adds quietly, and her heart shudders in revulsion at the past, Henry, she’s already sacrificed a piece of her soul to give her son a good life, unburdened by her shadow -- can she do it again for a little boy that doesn’t share her blood but is no less hers, too?
“We’re his family,” Little John concludes, wrapping his large hands around the boy’s shoulders, and she knows, she knows, but, one year of pretending not to be playing hide-and-seek in the corridors of her castle, one year of pretending she wasn’t charmed by the dimpled smile of a four-year-old boy, one year of stories and secrets whispered in the middle of the night, one year of desperate longing yet slightly mellowed by the sticky little palm slipping into her own, the light flashing in his eyes when he recognized her after the Second Curse broke, the desperation with which he clung to her at night after they came back from New York, his bright and astonished little face when he met the peanut-sized baby bundled up in her pink covers “That’s my sister?”
Is she not his family?
“‘Gina… please…”
She gently -- oh, so gently, as if he would crumble to dust under her fingers -- cradles his head, and his tears are running now, she wipes them off his cheeks with patient, caring fingers, brushes her forehead against his, and whispers, only for him, words to be carved into his little heart: “I love you, Roland. I will always love you. In whatever world you are, you’re alive in my heart. You are strong, and kind, and brave, just like (a sharp intake of breath) just like your father. You brought me so much joy when I knew so much pain. And now I have to... I have to keep you safe. I have to keep you safe-”
She can’t go on -- there’s no use to, what could words add now that her hands, her lips, her sobs are not telling him, and she feels his hands make a last grab at her arms -- missing, she feels Little John’s arm squeezing her shoulder with tenderness before dragging a wailing Roland away, she feels other soft touches on her back as the Merry Men walk by, sympathizing with her sorrow, unable to soften it.
“I’ll come visit you,” she whispers, low, too low because her voice can’t carry over her pain, over his cries, “I’ll come visit you, I promise.”
She hears her sister calls for her -- sees her heels just as sharp and high as hers stepping down the sidewalk to walk in her direction -- and she stops her with her hand, her head still down.
“Open the portal now, Zelena,” she says, sounding weaker by the minute, and she meets her sister’s eye, and Zelena understands, that she needs to make this quick, quick before her screaming instincts send her running towards Roland and snatching him from Little John’s arms.
She raises her wand -- Regina meets tearful brown eyes, pleading eyes, and she pleads as well, begs with all she has in her soul for him to forgive her -- and they go through the portal, the last ones to leave, Zelena closing the door behind them.
It’s over.
She feels a presence by her side, strong, silent, hovering -- Emma. She must have driven the car over here. She hadn’t heard her coming. Despite their most recent quarrel, Regina feels grateful. She feels grateful for the warm fingers lingering between her shoulder blades, not touching her like so many others would do, just bringing quiet support.
“Hey.”
She shakes her head-- can’t quite manage a sound right now, and gets back on her feet, brushing herself off the dirt she’d gathered on the road.
“Are you okay?”
She turns with a bitter smile, not quite meeting Emma’s eyes.
“I think we’re gonna have to rule out this question from the appropriate things to ask me these days. Let’s go find Henry. One crisis at a time.”
Emma nods, her hand brushing down Regina’s arm, a simple gesture of comfort.
“Alright. And for what it’s worth-”
“You feeling sorry is not worth anything to me at the moment. But you helping me find our son? That is. So let’s get in that car and cut the small talk.”
She doesn’t wait for Emma’s sad smile -- doesn’t wait either for her sister’s hesitant look, and the shy smile that tugs at her lips as her fingers brush against her empty pocket where the sorcerer’s wand should be.
…
.
…
It’s dark when they get home. The night had caught them unaware as they walked out of Emma’s temporary house (“Like hell I’m gonna keep a house with a dungeon in my basement”, she’d shivered, helping herself to another beer). To tell the truth Regina could have done without the family meal after a rather exhausting day, but she’d known they needed to talk, all three of them, especially, Emma had pointed out with her usual finesse, about how Henry needed to tone down the overreaction phase whenever Moms had a fight, because it wasn’t the first one and it certainly wouldn’t be the last -- but that didn’t mean they weren’t family, she’d added with a hopeful glance at Regina, and when she’d smiled, Emma’s whole face had erupted in relief and light.
It had been a good evening, overall, despite the several heartbreaks she’d been nursing at the same time, and when she enters her study, giving Henry an affectionate caress through his hair as he rushes up to take a shower, she removes her heels with a grateful sigh, sits and tucks her feet in on the couch, closing her eyes, allowing the small core of relief she’d felt coming back home with her son safe and sound to spread inside.
And then she hears the small but unmistakable sound of a young boy clearing his throat.
“Don’t be mad, Regina.”
For half a second, she doesn’t want to open her eyes.
She doesn’t want to meet the empty space in front of her, and hear the echo loved ones’ voices that exist only in her mind.
But warm, little hands gently probe and squeeze at her knees, and that’s real, and Roland’s there, and she opens her eyes with a wet, incredulous laugh.
“Roland?”
“My papa always said,” he starts, his face serious and tense, the words slow as if he’s been rehearsing a few times for them to be perfect, “that home is where you are safe and happy and loved. It is not a house and it is not a tent, it’s not a place and it’s not a land. It’s a person. And you are home to me.”
She’s too stunned to speak, or to move at all when he climbs into her lap and clings to her neck and mumbles against her shoulder: “I know you’re scared for me, but I’m never scared when I’m with you. I know you can protect me like you protect Henry. I want to stay with you. Please can you let me stay?”
She finally brings him against her chest, arms tight, tight and secure around him as she fights to regain her breath, recover her senses.
“How did you even -- how did you get back here? What -- Where is Little John and all the others, what -”
“Here,” he interrupts her rambling by searching through his pockets and pulling out a dirty piece of paper. “This is from Little John. And I gave the wand back to Zelena. I only stole it for a little while, I swear! Just so I could open the door again. It was sticking out of her pocket when we walked out, she didn’t even notice!”
Her whole face is hot, flushed with the tears she’s holding back, but her laughter spills out as she mumbles against his scalp, “My clever little thief.”
She rolls out the letter with shaky fingers, her eyes jumping over the quickly scrambled words.
Regina,
I am not a man of words, and I don’t know much about writing. I asked Will for help with this. But what I do know, is that a child not only needs protection, but love and happiness. Roland would have been plenty safe and loved with us, aye, but not as happy as he would be with you. I saw him with you, and I saw him today, and I understand, now. I believe you would have saved Robin with everything you have if you could. I believe that you’ll care for his little boy as you do your own. I believe you can give Roland a better childhood than we can. I know Robin’s life was better for having known you, no matter how it ended. Our lives, and Roland’s, are better too. Don’t be a stranger and visit sometimes. There’ll always be a place for you both among the Merry Men.
Hug him tight for me, and give him your everything. He deserves it.
Goodbye,
Little John.
She takes a deep breath, slowly wipes the treacherous tears leaking along her cheeks, laughing awkwardly as Roland tries to help, and she folds the letter reverently, slipping it into the breast pocket of the coat she didn’t get to take off yet. And then she looks at Roland. Deep, and long, and with eyes polished by tears.
“Can I stay?” he whispers with his gaze held down, and she slowly lifts his chin up with her fingers, her smile broadening, unable to ever stop.
“For as long as you want, Roland of Locksley.”
He hiccups with joy, all nerves suddenly loosening in relief, and he bumps his nose into her cheek in his haste to hug her again.
“Forever is good?”
“Forever is perfect,” she smiles, stroking his back while he breathes her in, and holds on to her like someone who’s just been pulled out of the water after having stared at the dark fathoms below, while she holds this truth in her heart:
Sometimes, to give someone their best chance, you have to let them go.
Sometimes, to give someone their best chance, you have to believe in yourself enough to let them in.
She’s making the right choice.
.
She’s getting ready for bed -- Roland safely tucked in in Henry’s room for tonight, which her boy has welcomed with surprising delight despite the day he’s had, and when he’d met her eyes and smiled so bright, she’d understood it was mostly delight for her, fond of Roland as he is, because it is at least one wound she won’t have to nurse for the rest of her life -- when her brows furrow under the inspiration of a sudden thought, and she reaches for her pocket mirror, calling forth her magic to reach for her sister.
Zelena’s raised eyebrow appears before the whole of her face, her smirk clearly teasing.
“You’ve been in this world longer than I, sis, shouldn’t you know how to use a cellphone by now?”
“Did Roland really steal that wand?”
Zelena’s smirk widens.
“Well, he’s certainly a clever little fellow with nimble fingers.”
Regina stares at her --
“You left the portal open,” she realizes. “He shouldn’t have been able to use the wand, not without magic. You left the portal open, made him believe he had a way home, and when he tried to use the wand, it brought him back to the caster -- to you.”
Zelena’s eyes shift away for a second -- as if she can’t quite decide how to deal with the breathless gratefulness she hears in her sister’s voice.
“Well. I owed him that. After what I’ve done. And the way I see it… family should stick together.”
Regina slowly drags her fingers around the frame of the mirror, in a light caress Zelena can’t feel but certainly sees in her eyes.
“Thank you, Zelena.”
“Goodnight, little sis. You should get some rest, now. You have a bigger family to care for than you had this morning.”
They smile at each other, and she closes the mirror.
Summary: Roland is trying to get used to living in Sherwood Forest again, this time without his papa. Twenty-six drabbles, one for each letter of the alphabet. Plus, a beautiful and meaningful word with Greek roots for every letter.
From Ancient Greek ζήλια [zilia], which sometimes meant "jealousy", but more often was used in a good sense, like emulation, rivalry, zeal
Lang’s unusual attitude towards Roland continued during the next few days. He let the younger boy get away with things he otherwise wouldn’t.
Roland ended up eating Lang’s dessert for two days in a row. Lang kept looking at a spot near the door of the dining hall. Roland thought he was daydreaming. In the end he didn’t even realize half his strawberries were gone.
Roland played in the water puddles a lot. Lang didn’t pay any attention to him while he was splashing water all around; he was scribbling something on a piece of paper instead. When their time outside was over, Lang was shocked by the amount of dirt he found on Roland’s wet clothes.
Roland discovered the reason for Lang’s behavior after four days. It was Delwyn. Fair hair and elegant dresses, the girl who had to spend a few weeks in the safety of the castle with her parents in between their travels looked at Lang the way he looked at her from across the dining hall. Lang had eyes only for her, Roland’s words to him cut short and forgotten before reaching his ears.
Roland took off to find Little John. Lang didn’t even notice.
While Roland was walking up the stairs he heard several conversations around him. Some coming from upstairs, some from downstairs, some from small rooms located in semi-floors and hidden between secret doors. It was like the entire castle was alive and Roland found that as scary and exhilarating as he did the last time he lived there.
He walked towards Little John’s room, but stopped in his tracks when he heard a familiar voice. It couldn’t be…
He couldn’t hear the words clearly; the source of the voice had to be deep inside the room. But Roland was sure the voice was Regina’s. What was Regina doing in Little John’s room? When did she come to the Enchanted Forest? There was only one way to find out and Roland was not only curious but also excited to see her. He touched the doorknob, ready to push the door open when he heard a loud bang from a few doors down the corridor. Then voices that Roland knew belonged to Tripp, a boy his age, and his mother. It sounded like the woman was crying and Tripp was shouting at her.
Roland wanted to go to Regina, he really did, but the tone Tripp used against his mother was so harsh that Roland couldn’t stand it. He left Little John’s door behind and headed to the room where the fight was taking place. The door was half opened, so Roland could peek inside. He saw Tripp’s mother crying and Tripp’s face red from anger.
Tripp looked at the door upon Roland’s arrival and Roland gasped in fear and worry both for himself and for the crying mother. Tripp groaned and approached Roland slowly. He looked down at Roland and even though they had the same age, Roland felt like he was tiny at that moment.
“You have no idea how lucky you are that you have no parents. You get to run around all the time and do whatever you want,” the boy said in a low tone, the red anger from his face having expanded to his ears. “I’d want to be in your place,” he added before pushing Roland aside and leaving the room.
Tripp’s mother sobbed miserably a few feet away while Roland was left to stare at Tripp’s back as he stomped down the corridor. Roland turned to look at the woman and his heart broke. He took a few steps towards her, but she stopped him with a small gesture.
“Go and play, my boy. Tripp can be a difficult lad. It’s okay,” she said in a soft voice that sounded like music to Roland’s ears.
Roland left the room thinking that Tripp was wrong. He was the lucky one.
Summary: Roland is trying to get used to living in Sherwood Forest again, this time without his papa. Twenty-six drabbles, one for each letter of the alphabet. Plus, a beautiful and meaningful word with Greek roots for every letter.
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Aeonian
Basil
From Ancient Greek βασιλικός [vasilikos] (royal; name of the herb Ocimum basilicum)
Roland used to know Sherwood Forest. He used to play among its trees all day, he used to sleep in it, eat in it, have his happiest moments in it. But then they moved to the Queen’s castle and everything changed. Home was where his papa was, so the castle became his home. When they got to Storybrooke home was a different forest and then it was Regina’s house and then Storybrooke’s forest again. And then… Home didn’t exist anymore. Home used to move a lot, but it wasn’t there if his papa wasn’t there.
Stepping carefully on the wet ground, Roland noticed the tall trees around them gradually giving their place to shorter, different plantation.
Friar Tuck bent down to examine some herbs.
“Can I help?” Roland asked.
“You don’t have to do anything, my boy. Just try to enjoy your day. Why don’t you play while I’m collecting herbs?”
“But papa always let me help! And Regina, she said I was her knight!” Roland said, regretting going with Tuck, because even if the man was kind, he wasn’t the one Roland wanted to spend time with.
Tuck sighed and looked down, an expression on his face that Roland didn’t quite understand. But he got that expression a lot since they returned to Sherwood Forest.
A few hours later Roland had learnt three new herbs and recognized one he already knew. Doing something useful felt better than not having anything to do.
They were heading back to the camp when Roland gasped and stopped walking.
“What is it?” Tuck asked, concern coloring his voice.
Roland took a few steps to reach the newly discovered plant. He kneeled on the ground and rubbed one leaf with his fingertips. As a familiar scent filled the air, images of other times and other places filled Roland’s head, and he grinned widely.
“What is that, your Majesty?” “It’s basil.” Regina smiling and teaching him about her favorite herbs and spices at the grounds near the castle.
“Papa, can we use basil? It makes tomatoes taste yummier!” His papa attempting to cook in a kitchen that looked nothing like the place where they used to cook in the forest.
“This is how they make pasta in Storybrooke. Try it, I used basil in the sauce.” Regina winking at him and presenting a plate full of wonderfully smelling food.
“Papa, let’s plant our own basil.” Father and son working in a newly planted garden near Storybrooke’s forest.
“It’s basil!” Roland exclaimed.
And suddenly that unfamiliar place felt a little more like home.
